


A Boy and His Dog

by strawberry_bee



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Dog - Freeform, M/M, a real live dog, yes there's a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 22:26:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4076044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberry_bee/pseuds/strawberry_bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a fateful day in the rain, Grantaire is weighed down by the ownership of a Saint Bernard. This is really cheesy, and disney-esque. I highly recommend it if you like large slobbering dogs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Boy and His Dog

The fateful day in which the bumbling beast came into Grantaire's life, was the kind that would make Walt Disney weep from it's genius. For the record of all cliche's, it was raining. And Grantaire was hurrying home after a heavy bout of arguing with Enjolras. His chest felt warm from the exhilaration of it all, and the way Enjolras looked at him as if they had seen him for the first time all over again. By divine fate, he decided to stop in an alleyway. Maybe he heard a pitiful whimpering, maybe he wanted to smoke under cover of a roof. Either way, he spotted a heap of dog beside a dumpster, more caked mud than anything else.  
A gentle 'awww' escaped his throat, before his mind strictly reminded him that he was a cat person, not a dog person. But then the dog opened it's sorrowful eyes, and Grantaire's heart melted.  
"Here, boy." He called softly, hand leaving his pocket for his cigarettes. Instead, he crouched to the ground, holding his hand out to it. The dog sat up, looking at him with dull eyes.  
"Come on, I've got...uh. I can buy you some dog food, or something." He offered. Too late, he realized, he had forgotten to buy food that week, let alone dog food. In response, it huffed, and laid its head back down, watching him wearily.  
"I have chicken, and uhm. Biscuits. Wine if you want it." Grantaire half joked, wracking his brain for anything he had leftover. It lifted its head, and after what appeared to be careful consideration, heaved itself to its feet.  
Too late, Grantaire realized it was a saint bernard.  
"Awh, hell." He muttered, standing anyway. "Come on, you."  
Obediently, the dog trotted over to him, rheumy eyes sparkling with a hidden intelligence that Grantaire had not seen previously. With a sigh, he turned and began walking again. Unbidden, it followed at his heels, tail wagging gently.  
They made their way to Grantaire's apartment in silence, sneaking up the stairs to his fourth floor dingy apartment, and inside. A rope of drool was hanging from the dogs mouth, and before Grantaire could think to wipe it off, it walked gracefully to the middle of his apartment and shook.  
"Oh, god!" Grantaire shouted, horrified. Mud, slobber, other miscellaneous saint bernard fluids coated the walls, his coach, and even the painting he was working on.  
"Into the bathroom with you!" Grantaire shouted, horrified. The dog panted happily, trotting in the direction that Grantaire had pointed.  
"Jesus christ." He mumbled, wondering what he had gotten himself into. He followed the dog anyway, into the bathroom, where it had lifted a massive paw in the air, caught in the act of almost putting it in the tub. It looked at him, for permission, he supposed.  
"Yes, yeah, you're half mud anyway." Grantaire replied, busy with digging through his hair product for the off chance he had accidentally bought pet shampoo. He wouldn't put it past himself honestly.  
But instead he would have to settle for the generic store brand stuff he used on himself, and by then, the dog was barking anyway in boredom.  
"Shush, remember. You're a fugitive." Grantaire hissed, turning on the showerhead. The dog yelped, getting sprayed with a blast of cold water that made Grantaire mumble apologies until the water warmed up. Already the water draining was black from dirt and grime.  
As Grantaire rinsed down the dog, once, twice, and thrice over, its true colors began to show. It had that general saint bernard look, Grantaire supposed, except for the dash of black freckles on its muzzle, and curly ears. And plus, it was ridiculously skinny. Suddenly, Grantaire was feeling three times guiltier for not picking up food on the way home. And it, was actually a he, as Grantaire soon found out.  
On the fourth rinse he used the shampoo, and after he shut off the water, the dog stood up stoically, and as if he were a royalty, he looked up at Grantaire before shaking. Grantaire cried. The dog barked.  
What seemed to be an entire load of towels later, Grantaire released the beast back into the wild confines of his apartment. The dog made a beeline for the kitchen, where he turned to Grantaire, as if asking 'where's my chicken and biscuits?'  
"They have to cook first, you." Grantaire replied, ruffling his ears as he opened his fridge, taking out the raw chicken breasts and setting it on the counter. The dog whined loudly.  
"Sshhhhh." Grantaire hissed, putting a finger to his lips as he went about the kitchen, pulling out pans and turning on the stove.  
The dog barked again.  
"What on earth could you want now?" Grantaire hissed, exasperated. The dog looked over at the sink pointedly, and Grantaire resisted the urge to smack him on the snout.  
"Smartass." He muttered, filling a bowl of water and setting it on the kitchen floor before cooking. Several minutes passed, and Grantaire set to cooking the dog, and him, some chicken.  
Five minutes passed that way, and Grantaire became aware of the dog again, who was looking up at him with calm eyes.  
"Whaaat, I'm not giving you raw chicken. I'm not that mean." He told him, going back to his cooking. A paw touched his leg. Grantaire ignored it. A paw slammed into the back of his knee, and he slammed his kneecap into the oven door.  
"Ow! What the hell?" He shouted, jerking away from him. He only looked at him mournfully, and Grantaire noticed that he was probably just trying to tell him of his drooling issue, that was now puddling on the floor in just the most charming way. That, or he wanted his chicken right then. Grantaire decided to lie to himself and believe he was being polite.  
"What do you want me to do about it? You've got a problem, son." Grantaire replied, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at him. The dog sighed insufferably, and stood, going over to the couch. He kept eye contact with Grantaire as he wiped his drool off on the armchair.  
"You're going to the pound tomorrow." Grantaire said in reply.  
He seemed to smile as it began to pant, looking at him with adoring eyes.  
"Insufferable." Grantaire muttered, turning back to the chicken.  
When the chicken was finished cooking, he flipped the majority of it on the plate for the dog, leaving a smaller portion for himself. Despite himself, he waited to give gim the chicken right away, afraid of burning him on accident. Instead, he made faces at the dog as he ate his portion, laughing whenever he huffed in exasperation.  
Finally, finally, he finished his portion, and set his share on the floor. He went over to the couch, crashing down on it while the dog ate. He pulled out his phone to text Feuilly if he was in need of a dog, and just as he hit send, the insufferable creature leaped on the couch with him.  
The dogs bony limbs dug into Grantaire's stomach as it settled itself down, until it rested its head on Grantaire's shoulder. It gave a loud sigh, and settled down to sleep.  
"My phone." Grantaire complained muffledly, as his phone had been thrown in the resulting dog attack.  
Several moments passed, and the canine of high prestige. had already settled into a deep sleep. For some reason, Grantaire couldn't bring himself to get the phone, or even wake his temporarily placed dog for that matter. 

Grantaire awoke to the wonderful feeling of a slobbering dog licking his face.  
"Ggret off." Grantaire mumbled, pushing the dog away and turning to hide his face in the couch cushion. The dog whined, and Grantaire turned over again.  
"You are the neediest mutt I've ever met." He said sleepily, sitting up and rubbing his face. Dimly, he realized he hadn't touched the bottle of wine on the nightstand at all, and before he could think to reach for it, he was already pulling on his sweaters sleeve.  
"Okay, okay, geez." He stood up and stretched, before going to the kitchen to fill the dogs water. He drank for a minute, long enough for Grantaire to find his phone, and to receive the god awful news that no, no one was looking for a dog for the moment. But he'd keep looking, if Grantaire wished. He replied a yes, please, for the love of god take this dog off his hands, before he grabbed his coat, and apartment keys.  
"Come on, you. We're going for a walk." He said, grabbing his skateboard against the wall. The dog only panted passively, waiting to be let out.  
'Please dont run away, either.' Grantaire found himself thinking as he opened the door. Naturally, he made a beeline out of his apartment, and Grantaire ran after him. 

They spilled out into the pavement of the city, where the dog stopped to do his business. Grantaire took that time to smoke, hands shaking slightly from withdrawal of drink.  
"You're bad for me, you know that?" Grantaire told him, and he shook its fur out, in disbelief, he supposed.  
"Yeah, you're right." Grantaire answered, and dropped his skateboard to the pavement, placing his right foot on it before kicking off with the other. He fell into an easy trot beside him. They traveled through the streets of the city together, until Grantaire came to a familiar old grocery store. He kicked his board up and caught it with his hand, before turning to him.  
"Stay." He commanded, and the dog obediently sat, looking at him like 'Cool, where's my treat, you doofus.'  
"Stay here, I'm gonna get you some dog food." He said, and eyeing him as he stepped into the store backwards, he only broke eye contact until a stranger shoved past him. He spun around, and grabbing a basket, he set to work. He moved through the store like clockwork, picking up the usual supplies that he needed for the following week--until he came to pet food section. There were so many /  
and the packaging colors were frankly hurting his eyes. Giving up, he grabbed the cheapest brand and headed to the counter.  
As he pulled out his wallet, he caught sight of a man grabbing the dog by the scruff of the neck, and beginning to drag him away. Before he knew what he was doing himself, Grantaire spilled out of the store.  
"Hey! That's my dog!" He shouted, striding over to the guy and shoving him backwards. The man let go of his dog, and he hid behind Grantaire's legs, looking reproachfully at the man.  
"Get him a damn collar then, you hobo." The man shot back, wheeling around and stalking off.  
"What the fuck, man? You don't just...grab someone's dog and try to take off with them." Grantaire cursed, putting a reassuring hand on t. "Uh, don't get any ideas though." He added hastily, realizing that okay, maybe he was getting a little too fond of him. The dog only whined and nuzzled his hand.  
"You're right. First food, and then a collar and leash for you." Grantaire replied, glancing down at the dog. "I gotta think of a name for you." He only barked.  
Grantaire hurried inside, eyes never leaving the dog for a moment while he paid the confused cashier. He twisted the bags around his wrists, threw the bag of dog food over his shoulder, and headed outside.  
"Okay, pet store next. And I'll get you some treats or something." He said, dropping his skateboard to the pavement again before taking off.  
Grantaire silently thanked whoever decided to let pets in petsco. He honestly didn't think he could have left his dog out alone, in case someone else decided he was some stray. Belatedly, he realized that the dog was becoming more of a permanent resident of his life.  
They roamed the store, using a cart that Grantaire pushed. He selected a collar that had daisies on it, and a leash that matched the sky blue on the collar. "Screw the gender binary, right?" He conversed with the dog, and he wagged his tail in response.  
Grantaire picked out a heart shaped tag, one because he thought it was cute, and two, because the dog had wagged his tail when he held it out for him to sniff. He picked out several chew toys, and because he was feeling generous, a chew bone as well.  
"There goes the rest of my commission money." Grantaire grumbled to him as he paid for the stuff, and headed over to the engraving machine, that featured an anime cat and dog on the screen.  
He took a moment, turning to his dog and considering him. The dog yawned, before settling down on the floor and looking up at him with patient eyes. Grantaire noticed ever present drooling issue, and snapped his fingers with his insight of genius.  
"Pavlov! Of course!" He wheeled around, punched the name intot he machine, and inserted the tag. A minute and a half later, Pavlov was his. They spend half an hour in the store together, mostly because Grantaire couldn't get the tag on the collar, and also because Pavlov had fallen asleep, and okay, maybe Grantaire didn't want to wake him up.  
It took until Grantaire opened a bag of cheetos, that Pavlov decided to wake up.  
"Your stomach betrays you." Grantaire said, and handed Pavlov the cheeto. He snapped it up and chewed curiously, before the thump of his tail signified that the offering was good enough.  
"But it's high time we got back-I have a meeting tonight, and you can't go." Grantaire conversed, giving Pavlov three more cheetos before shutting the bag. Pavlov whined, cocking his head as he watched Grantaire put the bag away.  
"To be honest, I want to see you slobber on Enjolras, but the cafe doesn't allow dogs, for obvious reasons." Grantaire continued, packing up the groceries in a manageable order that he could carry as he skateboarded. Finally, he hefted the dog food over his shoulder with a groan, and headed outside, Pavlov following at his heels.  
It was certainly a sight to see Grantaire slowly skateboard maneuver down the streets, carrying the days groceries, but somehow they both managed to get to his apartment safely, navigate the stairs, and into his apartment by some sort of black magic.  
He dumped the stuff on the counters, moving quickly to put everything away, and pulled a bowl from the cabinet, filling it with dog food before setting it down beside his waterbowl.  
"Well, uh, it's high time I go. Defeat anyone who tries to rob a poor artist, and all that." Grantaire said, gesturing to his cruddy apartment as if it were a lavish penthouse. Pavlov whined instead, not finding his joke funny.  
"I know, I know. But I can't be with you all the time, and there's a rally in a few days, and I need to be able to trust you to stay here." Grantaire said, frowning. Pavlov sighed long-sufferingly, and went over to the couch, where he climbed up and laid down, looking at Grantaire with sorrowful eyes.  
"It's only for a few hours." Grantaire replied, feeling guilty as he shut the door behind him. 

The walk to the cafe seemed empty of a certain slobbering individual, even if Pavlov had been with him for a day. Grantaire decided that he was going soft, and that it wasn't his fault. As he entered the cafe door, there was the general chorus of greetings from the back of the room where they resided. He headed over to the bar, ordered his usual beer for the start of the evening, and giving an albeit shy wave to Enjolras, he sat down in his spot between Joly and Bossuet.  
"What're we doing tonight?" Grantaire asked in a low tone.  
"Final preparations for the rally this weekend, as usual. I think Enjolras is going to ask you to make the signs again." Bossuet answered, taking a swig from Grantaire's beer.  
"Get your own." Grantaire snapped, snatching it away, even though he was smiling dumbly himself. There was something about the Amis that made him feel better than himself most days, but there was no way he was going to let them know that.  
"Aw, R, you're so affectionate tonight." Bossuet replied, swinging his arm around Grantaire. He shrugged him off, managing a grimace just for Bossuet. He laughed, just as Courfeyrac called the Amis together.  
"So as you all know, there's going to be a protest in two days over the senators antics. It's our duty to remind them of their obligation to the people, and to make sure that the people showing up remember what they're there for." He said, before bowing ridiculously low for the Amis before backing away.  
"Thank you, Courfeyrac." Enjolras said formally, stepping forward. The blonde had their hair tied back in a lose ponytail, and the circles under their eyes were much deeper than usually. Probably from staying up all night practicing his speech.  
"The only thing we are in need of at this point are protest signs, of course. Everything is in proper order, including the stage. Which, by the way, thanks Feuilly." Enjolras managed a wane smile for their favorite of the club, who only waved them off with a calloused hand. The amount of stages Feuilly built was astounding, in such little time as well. Grantaire would have to learn his secrets one day, even if it killed him.  
"Grantaire, would you mind making the signs?" Enjolras continued, focusing on him. Grantaire felt his stomach drop as those familiar cornflower blue eyes focused on him.  
"Depends, will I be given free reign for the slogans like last time?" He replied. Enjolras made a face. 'Got you there' he thought.  
"Well...I don't think anything along the lines of 'Insistently disagreeing with this' will do."  
"What's wrong with cracking open a thesaurus every once in awhile?"  
Enjolras sighed. "It needs to be concise, Grantaire."  
"Yes, sir." Grantaire sat up in his slouching position and saluted Enjolras, who only rolled his eyes at him, and what, Grantaire could only guess at, was the hint of a smile.  
The rest of the meeting proceeded without a hitch, as Grantaire was too distracted by worrying over Pavlov, and okay, maybe he didn't like arguing with Enjolras all of the time. Sometimes it was just nice to hear him talk. (Not that he would ever, in a million years, admit that.)  
Afterwards, when Grantaire had gotten through two beers and Joly and Bossuet had left, Enjolras of all people came over.  
"Hey, er, you weren't jumping down my throat tonight, and that's sorta out of the blue for you so uh, I was just wondering if everything was alright." Enjolras said, and dare Grantaire assume? They were blushing.  
"Oh, uh. I actually picked up a stray last night. I had to leave him behind, and I was worried about how he was doing." He admitted, sheepishly.  
"A stray? Is it a dog?" Enjolras burst out, their eyes lighting up. Grantaire raised his eyebrows, surprised.  
"Shut up." Enjolras grumbled, and yes, they /were/ blushing.  
"Yeah, he's a dog. I kinda just, adopted him I think?" Grantaire confessed, standing and grabbing his coat.  
"How'd that end up?" Enjolras asked, their eyebrows knitting together in genuine concern.  
"I shit you not, it was the most stereotypical disney movie crap you've ever seen." Grantaire said, smiling. "There was a heavy downpour, violins were playing, and he was just hunched up by a dumpster, the scrawniest thing you've ever seen."  
Surprisingly, Enjolras laughed. "I didn't know you paid people to follow you around with violins in the rain."  
"Well, yeah, duh. I'm an /artist/. Someone has to feed my tortured soul." Grantaire joked right back, shrugging his coat on.  
"Anyway, I'm glad you're alright. He sounds great. What's his name?" Enjolras continued. Grantaire took a moment, mulling over the idea that Enjolras was actually, consciously worried about him, of all people.  
"Pavlov. He's a saint bernard, so, yknow." Grantaire gestured lamely. "Uh, he has a major salivating issue. So yeah."  
"I'd love to meet him. Will you bring him to the rally?" Enjolras asked.  
"I, er, I guess? I dont know." Grantaire was caught off guard. Part of him thought it would be hilarious. Seeing the riot police cower from Pavlov's calm demeanor. But another part of him didn't want the dog getting hurt. He looked young enough, but he still wasn't exactly well off either.  
"You don't have to, er, sorry." Enjolras apologized.  
"What? Come again?" Grantaire made a show of leaning forward, putting his hand behind his ear.  
"Shut up." Enjolras laughed, and they walked out of the cafe together, into the late evening.  
"You could see him, if you'd like. I mean, if you have nothing better to do." Grantaire said hastily.  
"Nah, I'm not going to do anything except go home and listen to Courfeyrac try to talk Combeferre into dueting Wicked with him again." Enjolras replied.  
"Whats the success rate of that?" He asked.  
"About, like, fifteen percent of the time." Enjolras answered.  
They walked together back to Grantaire's apartment, talking about the fellow members of the club, and how the blueberry muffins in the cafe were the best they've ever tasted. Before he knew it himself, Grantaire was standing just outside of his apartment, with a rather attractive boy, and a slobbering beast on the other side. Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door, and opened it.  
He entered with Enjolras, turned on the light, and set his keys on the counter. He heard a sharp intake of breath, the explosion of barking, and suddenly Enjolras had been tackled by a very angry Pavlov.  
"No! Pavlov, good person. Very good person." He shouted, freaking out when Pavlov wasn't listening. He pulled Pavlov away by his collar, and realized what he had mistaken as an angry saint bernard was a very happy one. Pavlov shoved his nose into Grantaire's hand, begging for pets. Grantaire petted his dog absently, wide-eyed in horror as a red-faced Enjolras sat up and dutifully wiped his face free of slobber.  
"I can explain." Grantaire said belatedly.  
"Dont be, he's wonderful." Enjolras cracked a smile, and Pavlov turned on him, tackling him to the ground again.  
"Whatever you say." Grantaire said uncertainly, backing away. He turned and raced around his apartment, cleaning up empty wine bottles, chucking week old dishes and laundry alike into their proper places. When he finally stepped out of his room with the last bit of laundry, he found Pavlov and Enjolras fighting over a chew toy in the middle of his living room.  
"This is too weird." Grantaire muttered, shaking his head in shock. Not wanting to interrupt the two in their locked combat, he made his way to the kitchen, banging around until he managed to procure a box of mac n cheese. He set about making the food, humming lightly as he worked.  
"I love him." Enjolras said suddenly, and Grantaire jumped, spilling the milk he was pouring all over himself and the floor.  
"Sh-I what?" Grantaire asked, turning around wide-eyed.  
"Do you need help?" Enjolras asked, heading over already and taking away the milk and pouring it for him and into the pot.  
"Sorry, I forgot you were here." Grantaire said, a tad bit breathlessly. Embarrassing.  
"Really?" Enjolras glanced at him, looking at him with a slightly worried expression.  
"I'm a lone wolf, Enj. I'm not used to people being in my apartment, and when they are, they're usually asleep, or drunk off their asses." Grantaire replied sheepishly, taking the pot from Enjolras and stirring it himself.  
"At least you have Pavlov now." Enjolras said softly, just audible enough for Grantaire to here. Louder, he continued, "If you'd like, I can take him to my vet. Er, I have some dogs, so." Enjolras drifted off as Grantaire turned to look at him.  
"I didn't know you had any pets. And yeah, that'd be great." Grantaire replied, positive at this point that he had a fever and he was dying on the side of the road.  
"Well, Combeferre has a cat, and Courfeyrac his border collie." Enjolras supplied, shrugging. "I had a dog at my parents, but they wouldn't let me take him with me."  
"That's too bad. I could help you steal stuff from rich people, if you'd like. We could Robin Hood the joint." Grantaire replied with ease.  
"Nah, he's gone now. He was really old when he passed, so." Enjolras looked away then, reaching down to pet Pavlov that had laid down at his feet.  
"I'm sorry." Grantaire said awkwardly, and to cover the silence, he slopped some mac and cheese into a bowl, handing it out to him.  
"Thanks." Enjolras replied, taking the spoon Grantaire offered as well, and began to eat. Grantaire took his portion, and whatever was left over, he gave to Pavlov. To the dogs credit, it only sighed for half a minute.  
"Shush you." He said to Pavlov, settling against the counter adjacent to Enjolras and began to eat.  
"Were you talking to me?" Enjolras asked, looking up in surprise.  
"Er, no, uh. I talk to Pavlov sometimes." Grantaire replied, blushing furiously.  
"That's cute." Enjolras said, and opened his mouth again, as if to continue. "Oh god did I just-"  
"You did."  
"Shit."  
They stared at each other for a moment, before breaking into laughter.  
"I'll keep your secret, Enj. No one but Pavlov and I will tell a soul that you called me cute." Grantaire played it off, smiling into his bowl of food nonetheless.  
"Thanks." Enjolras replied, still blushing as he set his bowl down. "I didn't mean to stay for dinner, or so late. I'm sorry."  
"Nah, don't be. It was nice, to, y'know, not fight. And, to get complimented too? I must have saved Jesus himself in a past life." Grantaire joked lightly.  
"Nah, you're a great person R. Really." Enjolras said softly, focusing his eyes on him so Grantaire couldn't pull away.  
"I-thanks." Grantaire mumbled, brain having gone blank of any comebacks.  
Pavlov saved Grantaire from his staring contest with Enjolras by pawing at the front door, and Grantaire swore to himself that he would buy that dog a poodle if he so desired.  
"Hey, I'll walk you outside, okay?" Grantaire said, setting his bowl down and grabbing his keys once more.  
"Okay." Enjolras replied, and they headed to the door, where there was a moment of putting on coats, and the whine of a very patient dog that had run its course in waiting.  
Grantaire opened the door, and as was customary, Pavlov bolted for the stairs. Grantaire trailed behind this time, preferring to walk beside Enjolras instead.  
"Do you just let him wander?" Enjolras asked.  
"Nah, I mean, someone tried to take him earlier today, and he tried to stay. So I guess he considers this home now." Grantaire replied.  
"I saw all the things you got him. I can see why." Enjolras replied, smiling. "I didn't know you were one to spoil a dog."  
"Loook, I thought it was gonna be a one night thing, dont judge." Grantire said defensively.  
"I'm not, you dork." Enjolras shot back, and they fell into a comfortable silence as finally they walked outside. Pavlov was waiting for them, looking at Grantaire as if he was the biggest loser he had ever seen. Resisting the urge to argue with his dog, Grantaire turned to Enjolras.  
"So this is goodnight."  
"yeah." Enjolras replied, scratching the back of their head.  
"I'll get those signs done, and maybe Pavlov will show up." Grantaire said.  
"I'd like that. And hey, R? Thanks for the food." Enjolras said, and they stood their for a moment, looking at each other.  
"So, uh, night."  
"Night."  
Enjolras bounded down the steps, and after petting Pavlov goodbye, he turned to the left, heading downtown to a better apartment, with friends to welcome him home. Suddenly all at once, Grantaire felt keenly lonely.  
"Come on, Pav. It's time to beef you up a bit." Grantaire said, turning and going inside, his dog following at his heels. 

The beefing up of a saint bernard, actually, took a very long time. Three months, to be exact. But Pavlov was Grantaire's miracle dog, and he made sure to return the favor the best he could. He had stopped drinking, for the most part, and there was hardly any time to smoke when he had a slobbering saint bernard to keep off nice looking people's suits. It was always business people Pavlov went after, anyway.  
'It's because he hates the bourgeois.' Enjolras had claimed, when he had accompanied them on a long walk. Grantaire had scoffed him away, but maybe it was true.  
That was another thing. Enjolras. All of the sudden he was coming over, full of excuses. 'the lighting in your apartment is better.' 'Ferre and Courf are being too loud'. 'I wanted to say hi to Pav.' 'I wanted to ask you about this book, actually...'. And it went on and on. Eventually, he just stopped giving excuses, and Grantaire left his apartment unlocked for the blonde to just walk in and collapse in a familiar heap behind the couch, Pavlov in tow.  
And when Grantaire went out on errands, Pavlov came along. Sometimes he would race through the city on his skateboard, just to hear the Amis ask him later why a saint bernard was just patiently following him at first, and then later, why he was so mean to poor ol' Pavlov. The dog would sit outside the cafe patiently, tongue lolling as he waited for his owner to come out long after the others of the club had. It was a staple of their lives, when Enjolras came over for dinner after the meetings.  
Enjolras' vet estimated Pavlov to be four years old, and in surprisingly good health, since he appeared to be extremely worn down when Grantaire had found him originally. Given the clean bill of health, Grantaire was left to fatten up Pavlov. Which, between the constant leftovers Enjolras slipped Pavlov, and the portions of meals Grantaire was giving him himself, was fairly easy.  
So it was the morning of a rally that Grantaire decided to take Pavlov to. It was going to be fairly small, nothing big. Just protesting some pro-lifers, keeping them from the abortion clinic. He fixed the sky blue collar on Pavlov, and stepped outside of his apartment. They headed out of the apartment complex together, both taking their time on that day to smell the flowers, literally, for Pavlov.  
The entire walk, Grantaire was talking to Pavlov. "The ones who aren't the Amis with signs are jerks. But you can't bite them, or we'll have a lawsuit on our hands." He instructed, while Pavlov looked up at him with adoring eyes. "All you gotta do is look cute, and if one of them steps too close, growl."  
Pavlov barked what Grantaire took as understanding, and grinned. "Love ya, you big goof." He said fondly.  
When they got to the abortion clinic on the outskirts of town, even though they started extremely early in the morning, the Amis were already there, forming a sort of wall around the sidewalk leading up to the abortion clinic.  
"Good to see you, R-Pavlov!" Enjolras called, and Pavlov tore from his owners side, Wrenching Grantaire with him as he crashed into Enjolras.  
"Dislocate my shoulder why dont you." Grantaire grumbled, rubbing his shoulder as he looked around. On the left side of the sidewalk Jehan was standing, holding a bucket of flowers. It was his job, as was decided by the Amis, to stand and give the women leaving a flower. It was the least they could do, outside of blocking the current group of protesters from viewing the women coming and going.  
"Where do I need to be?" Grantaire asked, unclipping Pavlov's leash.  
"Go stand by Bossuet and look intimidating with Pavlov. They're just yelling useless stuff really." Enjolras replied, straightening up from petting Pavlov.  
"Okay." Grantaire replied, nodding to Enjolras as he did as he was asked.  
"You brought the puppy?" Bossuet cooed, dropping to his knees to say hello to Pavlov.  
"It was Enjolras' idea, really." Grantaire replied, taking his spot beside him and Bahorel.  
"Dude, you shoulda brought him sooner. It's been really depressing here." Bossuet replied, giving Pavlov an ear rub.  
"How many started crying?" Grantaire asked, mellowing out.  
"Three, or so. I just wish these assholes would back off. It's a hard enough decision as is." Bossuet said bitterly, but his angered expression couldn't stay long, as Pavlov saw fit to lick his face.  
"Damn." Grantaire sighed, turning his gaze to watch the protesters. Two of them were younger than Gavroche, and they were pulling on their parents coats, complaining of the cold. He shook his head, and settled in for a long morning.  
But what surprised him most of all, was that when another woman stepped out of her car and began to walk to the clinic, face set in a mask of determination, Pavlov peeled away to go to her. She seemed startled for only a moment, before Pavlov licked her hand and took his spot beside her, walking diligently with her until she stepped inside. Once she was, he trotted back to Grantaire and sat down.  
"Did you train him to do that?" Bossuet asked, in bewilderment.  
"Uh. No?" Grantaire said. "I feel like I should take the credit it for it, though."  
"Dude, he's the best dog ever." Bossuet replied, and scratched Pavlov behind the ears.  
"Sshhhh, he already has a big enough ego." Grantaire replied, still in awe himself.  
Throughout the rest of the day, until closing, Pavlov would only wander off to walk with the girls and women who entered the clinic. But what surprised the Amis most of all, were the few that asked to have a picture with Pavlov, saying that he was a great dog, and for some reason, they thanked Grantaire for him. He hated to admit it, but it was just the dog. Nevertheless, they did their job, and they all made plans to go to their favorite pizza joint in celebration of a job well done.  
Grantaire led Pavlov away to get him water from a bottle and the bucket that Jehan was done with using. He waited alongside Pavlov while the dog drank, and smiled in familiarity at Enjolras as he came up.  
"So, he's our little miracle dog, huh?" Enjolras said, petting Pavlov.  
"Well, I wouldn't say /little/ persay, but he's certainly something." Grantaire replied, looking at his slobbering mess of a dog fondly.  
"Will you be joining us? They have an outdoor area." Enjolras said. "I'll even buy Pavlov his complimentary round of pizza."  
"You know what? I think I will." Grantaire found himself saying. Besides, it would be cruel to pass up the chance of seeing Pavlov try to eat a slice of deep dish pizza.  
"Thanks for bringing him R. And thanks for coming." Enjolras said softly, and Grantaire nodded his thanks, grabbing the bucket and following Enjolras into the the afternoon light as the Amis worked out who got the honor of carpooling with Pavlov. 

"Hey, Pavlov is on the news." Enjolras said upside down, from the couch. Grantaire looked up from his sketch of him, puzzled.  
"What?" He asked.  
"Pavlov the Miracle Dog." Enjolras read the title in an official voice. "Apparently one of the women we helped is a journalist, or something. She asked for a photo, and, well, everyone's asking about him."  
"Shit, my dog is gonna get on the tonight show before I do." Grantaire commented, and Enjolras laughed.  
"This is great, though. It's drawing attention to our causes, and plus, Pavlov gets the love and attention he deserves." Enjolras continued.  
"Are you turning my puppy into a poster animal?" Grantaire shot back, mock-offended.  
"Maybe." Enjolras replied sheepishly.  
"Well, it certainly fits him." Grantaire shrugged, settling back into his sketch. He wasn't going to worry about it. A meme would only last a few weeks, and it wasn't like Pavlov was going to any rallies anytime soon.  
"Hey Rrrrr." Enjolras began.  
'Oh, no' Grantaire thought. He heaved a sigh. "Yes, Enj?"  
"Can Pavlov maybe go to a rally? Just /one/?" He asked innocently.  
"Enjolras-" Grantaire began.  
"I know, I know. We'll keep him safe. No one would ever let Pavlov get hurt, and I swear it'll be a small issue." Enjolras insisted, propping themselves up from their position to look at R from a right-side point of view.  
"Go back to that position and I'll think about it." Grantaire grumbled, and Enjolras obeyed.  
Fifteen minutes later, Enjolras began to hum the jeopardy theme song, and Grantaire sighed.  
"Fine, but no Tonight Show." He said finally.  
"Oh! Thank you, R!" Enjolras shouted, leaping up and hugging him.  
"Goddamit Enj, I can't draw you if you dart all over the place." Grantaire complained, muffled by Enjolras' hair.  
"Oh, sorry." Enjolras shot up, embarrassed. He went back to a poor imitation of the original position he was in, and Grantaire started a new sketch.  
And so it was sealed in fate. 

The very next month, just as the leaves had started to fall from their leaves, Grantaire was back in the middle of a riot.  
"God, fucking, damn, it!" Grantaire cursed, keeping a tight hold on Pavlov as he kept his other hand tightly on Jehan's sweater. The smallest of the Amis, and the one most susceptible to getting caught, there was no was Grantaire was letting Jehan spend another night in a jail cell. Besides, Enjolras had made him promise to keep Jehan nearby. He was the one with the camera anyway.  
"Has he ever heard of fuckin' Achilles? He's gonna kill me and Pavlov with his goddamn claim to fame!" Grantaire shouted, pushing against the throng, just as tear gas began to fall behind them.  
Jehan's reply was lost in the sea of resounding screams of pain, and mixed fear. Grantaire let go of Jehan, took off his own goggles, and thinking nothing of it, bent down to place them over Pavlov's eyes. He stood up, grabbed hold of Jehan again, and they were off once more. He was a pro at navigating frightened people at this point. That was also why he was most trusted with the bail money, since everyone else got caught. He heard the shout of Enjolras' voice of anger in the distance, and Grantaire resisted the urge to track him down and punch him for lying to him.  
The thing was, this rally was supposed to be peaceful. Maybe Enjolras had stepped on one too many political toes, because they had hardly any warning before the riot police swept in to take out the peaceful protesters. But the point was, was that Grantaire needed to get out if he was to save everyone else, and it was looking like he had little chance of that. Something, or someone, pulled Grantaire from his grip on Jehan, and he wheeled around, eyes narrowed in anger. Instead, he faced down a man in full on riot gear, eyes seemingly dull as he raised his baton to crash down on his skull, his other hand firmly clasped on Jehan's shoulder.  
Grantaire let go of Pavlov's collar, and there was a low snarl. Then he felt Pavlov lunge, and then the man was knocked backwards, downwards, as a furious Pavlov shredded at the man's vest, snarling in anger. A sense of satisfaction flared in Grantaire's chest, before reality crashed back down on him.  
"What the hell are you doing?" Grantaire shouted, grabbing Jehan by the collar once more as he was taking photos of Pavlov. Fuck Enjolras' plan. They needed out.  
"Pavlov!" Grantaire called, and the dog snarled once more before bounding to run beside Grantaire as he pushed through the crowds. By sheer luck, they were able to break through and into an abandoned apartment complex that was designated for that sort of thing. He remained in the foyer with Jehan and Pavlov, shaking from adrenaline and rage, and okay, fear.  
"Are you okay?" He asked Jehan, already kneeling to run his hands over Pavlov to check for any injuries. The goggles had fallen around the neck during his attack, and all at once Grantaire was reminded of his burning eyes. Of course, he had always been aware of the sheering pain, but it seemed he had more important things to attend to at the time.  
"Shit, got some tear gas." Grantaire said, belatedly realizing he missed Jehan's answer to his earlier question. But already his eyes were glazing over from inflammation, and Pavlov nosed his shoulder, whining worriedly. He heard Jehan reaching into his pack, and then the unscrewing of a bottle of milk they all kept with them, in case of circumstances like this.  
"I got some great shots." Jehan said conversationally as they poured milk over Grantaire's eyes. The pain eased a little, and he was able to focus on the shouting of the crowds outside as they dispersed.  
"Great, fantastic." Grantaire replied bitterly.  
"It'll be fine." Jehan said softly, and sat beside him. Pavlov settled down in front of them, growling a little whenever he heard the megaphone being used by the riot police.  
"At least he knows his enemies, eh?" Grantaire said finally, in the silence.

They waited several hours after dark, until finally the sounds outside returned to that of a regular city block.  
"C'mon, you two." Grantaire said, standing and stretching. Jehan had fallen asleep on Pavlov, and the dog was all too happy to take a break from the long day. He had to crouch down to shake Jehan awake, who only sleepily sat up and rubbed their eyes for a solid minute before blearily getting to their feet.  
"You're gonna need another orange sweater." Grantaire said apologetically, noticing how many tears was in their sweater.  
"It's okay. I've been looking for an excuse to go shopping anyway." They said faintly, still blinking away sleep.  
"Sorry about being upset about the shots you took of Pavlov. You put yourself in danger for them." Grantaire said awkwardly, pushing the sleeves of his sweater up as Pavlov took a moment to stretch before going to the door.  
"It's okay. He's your best friend, it's understandable." They said with the easy way they always had, setting Grantaire's fears of how he reacted earlier that day at ease.  
"Thanks, Prouvaire." Grantaire replied, and they set out. The walk to the police station was easy enough, a familiar haunt that Grantaire had taken one too many times. They only needed to stop to get the cash from Courfeyrac's mother, who only tutted her tongue and told Grantaire to smack her son over the head for her. Grantaire promised he would.  
Jehan waited outside with Pavlov, and Grantaire went inside to continue the same old process. An hour and a half later of intense questioning, glares, and threats, the Amis spilled out onto the police station steps. Jehan was happy to see them all, as Pavlov and they had kept themselves busy eating every kind of foodcart available in the surrounding area.  
There was the general hugs, the jokes, and the exhilaration that came from a close call with the authorities. But Grantaire avoided Enjolras, instead going to Pavlov and sitting aside to scold him for eating so much greasy food. To his credit, the dog only looked a little bit ashamed. Eventually, Grantaire rested his head in Pavlov's fur, and whispered thank you a hundred times over.  
Eventually, Enjolras made his presence known, with an awkward cough. Grantaire was tempted to ignore him, but his soft spot was always Enjolras, after all.  
"Yeah?" He asked gruffly, to hide the tears in his voice.  
"I, uh. I didn't know it would get that bad. I honestly didn't know what happened." Enjolras admitted, sitting beside Grantaire.  
"It's fine." Grantaire said heavily, busying himself with tugging snarls out of Pavlov's fur. After a long moment, Grantaire felt Enjolras' arm around himself, and Grantaire leaned in, closing his eyes, resting his head against Enjolras' shoulder.  
"I was scared I was gonna lose him. I still am." Grantaire admitted, eyes screwed tight so the tears wouldn't spill over. "I don't want those photos released-in case, in case they try to kill him from attacking the riot police guy."  
"He attacked a riot policeman?" Enjolras asked incredulously.  
"Y-yeah." Grantaire hiccuped, and suddenly he was crying like some big baby. Pavlov whined, and Enjolras buried Grantaire's face in his shirt, making soothing noises. "He was gonna knock me out, and I lost sight of Jehan, and, and, he just protected me."  
"Shh, it's okay, R, it's okay." Enjolras said softly, a tone that Grantaire had never heard him use on anyone before, except for maybe Courfeyrac.  
"I'm such a baby, I'm crying over a dumb dog." Grantaire said suddenly, pulling away and wiping his tears away with his sweater sleeves. He hiccuped loudly, and turned red in embarrassment.  
"It's alright, R. Honestly. I'll never do it again, I swear." Enjolras said, voice dropping low. "I forgot my place."  
"Nah, it's alright." Grantaire took a deep, shuddering breath, and released it. "Hey, Enj? Post the photo. I don't want to see them, but I don't want him to still go down without the world knowing." Grantaire said. It was only a matter of time, anyway. They'd fine Pavlov, and he'd be saying goodbye to his best friend.  
"Alright, R." And yet, Enjolras still didn't go. Grantaire gave him, five, six minutes, before turning to him.  
"Hey listen-" He was interrupted by Enjolras crashing into him in a hug, and while he was just a scrawny beanpole, he clutched onto Grantaire for all he was worth.  
"What do I have this honor?" Grantaire joked weakly, and he heard the muffled 'shut up, R'. Grantaire smiled. Yes, Pavlov was quite the miracle dog.

Over the following weeks, Pavlov the Rally Dog shot through the news feeds. He got his own tumblr posts, became a meme, and rode a blaze of glory that Grantaire was only slightly jealous of.  
The morning of that fateful day, Grantaire was teasing Pavlov about his slobbering habits, when there came a knock on the door. Thinking it was maybe Joly, or even Enjolras, he opened the door. But instead, it was a lawyer, a very scary one that talked a lot about ownership and basically-Pavlov was not his. And their owners wanted him, because he had gotten famous, and they wanted to use him for a branding label, and he was expected in court the following week. And they had taken Pavlov, whining and resisting, out the door and down the hallway.  
Since then, Grantaire had been drinking.  
Something that he hadn't done for months, long enough for his friends to start taking bottles out of his apartment as he gave them away as gifts, joking that they were vintage because they hadn't been opened in so long. But now he was two bottles in, and heavily into his third. Pavlov was going. He didn't have the money for a lawyer, these people seemed rich, and there was nothing he could do.  
Some time later, a familiar hand shook him awake, and Grantaire told them to fuck off, whoever they were.  
"R. Listen. Where's Pavlov?" A clear voice ordered, and as usual, Grantaire was compelled to answer.  
"They fuckin' took him, golden boy. You got your supporters, and they took him." Grantaire replied, sitting up and staring at Enjolras blearily.  
"Was it the police?" Enjolras demanded.  
"No. A lawyer." Grantaire gestured to the papers he had thrown on the coffee table, before slumping back into his place on the couch.  
There was blissful silence while Enjolras read. Long enough for Grantaire to rationalize that a third bottle wouldn't be so good, and decide on sleeping it off. Just as he was drifting off, Enjolras shook him awake.  
"We can fight this. They abandoned the dog, clearly, and didn't claim him. You've been taking care of him for the past few months, and if I'm correct, they never really managed him properly." Enjolras started up, in his blaze and glory voice. "We could even charge him for animal neglect! Come on, Grantaire." Enjolras pulled Grantaire to his feet, after several minutes of pushing and shoving.  
"Whose gonna fight for me, huh? I don't have the money." Grantaire said, knocking around his apartment as he searched for his coat and keys.  
"R. You're friends with several lawyers in training." Enjolras deadpanned, and Grantaire stared at them.  
"You cant be serious. None of you have even /graduated/." Grantaire pointed out.  
"Not true. Marius did."  
"You are /not/ having Marius fight for my dog."  
"Not with that attitude, we aren't." 

An emergency club meeting was called, and Grantaire was found in the back of the Amis, nursing the beginnings of a bad hangover as Enjolras drilled into a very frightened Marius Pontmercy what he had to do in order to save Pavlov.  
"You can't mess up, Marius. This could make or break your career. The social media is in love with Pavlov, and if you win the case, you're set for life." Enjolras was good at exaggerating things, Grantaire had to admit.  
"B-but Enjolras, I'm not even a civil dispute lawyer I-"  
"Sshhhh Marius, that's why you're gonna study all of this week with Bahorel."  
Bahorel leaned in and whispered. "Is now the time to admit I never go to class anymore?"  
Grantaire guffawed with laughter despite himself, and Enjolras looked at him in confusion.  
"Nothing, nothing, please continue." Grantaire said, stifling laughter still bubbling up in his throat.  
"Everyone knows there jobs, yes?" Enjolras stated, and everyone who had showed up, nodded in unison.  
If only Grantaire had paid attention to their assignments.

The courtdate was Wednesday. That day they planned was Thursday. On Friday, Eponine and Gavroche were there at the the crack of dawn, Eponine claiming that she couldn't trust Gav on his own any longer, before disappearing. He spent the day drawing with Gavroche, teaching him swears in other languages, and before he knew it, Eponine was back. Still, Grantaire worried about Pavlov, a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. And just as Eponine left with Gavroche at seven p.m., Enjolras was there. He came with what seemed to be twenty movies crammed in his backpack, with clothes and a blanket and his laptop.  
"I'm staying the weekend and there's nothing you can do about it." He stated, dropping down on the couch, and Grantaire nearly started crying right there.  
And so the weekend passed haltingly, if not slowly. They watched very movie it seemed, and Enjolras read to him, and they spent all hours of the night debating. Often, they'd fall asleep in a heap together. Grantaire frequently forgot to make his excuses before heading to bed, and really, he didn't mind waking to Enjolras making breakfast, or Enjolras sleeping just across from him, book in hand still.  
But then Sunday night rolled around, and Enjolras left, stating he had to make sure that Bahorel was holding up his bargain, a fierce light entering his eyes when Grantaire asked what was the consequences were if he didn't. Suddenly, Grantaire didn't wish he was Bahorel so much anymore. Not that he did, in the first place.  
Grantaire felt Enjolras absence keenly, in the way that he couldn't hear the monotone of Enjolras reading aloud as he fell asleep, or when he cooked. He missed Enj, and most of all, Pavlov, his closest confidant. Perhaps that night was the worst of all, for he turned to drinking again to fill the empty hours.  
And at eight in the morning, there was Gavroche again. 'Sick from school' Eponine stated, and this time it was true. The kid had a nasty cold, and Grantaire was all to happy to make him soup and let him boast about how he had tricked Eponine into believing he was sick. Whatever ploy the Amis were pulling him into, he was happy to play along. To be honest, Grantaire was touched that the Amis were going to such great lengths to keep him happy and distracted from Pavlov, no matter how well it was actually working. Then Gavroche was gone himself, stating that Eponine was waiting for him at home, like Grantaire was born yesterday and oblivious to his childish ploys.  
And so he was free to sleep, until the knock of another Amis member came from the door, and he opened it to reveal Jehan, wide eyed with excitement as they held an absurd amount of tye dye supplies and white clothing.  
"Oh, hell yes." Grantaire said.  
The next day, Enjolras walked in, saw them, turned around and walked out. They spent the rest of the day finishing their full on tye dye suits. Somehow, Jehan had found three-piece suits that not only fit them, but were an eggshell white. Now Grantaire didn't feel so bad about going to court. There was no way they were gonna say no to him in that outfit.  
And so on the morning of the eve of the courtdate, Grantaire was a thorough mess. He hadn't eaten in the time that Jehan was there, as they were the kind to forget as well, and not question him on the matter.  
But now Enjolras was back, shaking his head in wonder at the three piece tye dye suit Grantaire was gonna wear to the court, and another set of twenty movies that Grantaire did not want to watch, even if Enjolras asked him, pretty please, to.  
So instead, when Grantaire gave him a pitiful look, Enjolras grabbed his hand and pulled him to the couch, where he wrapped his arms around him and Grantaire hummed a tune mindlessly that carried nowhere in particular.  
"We'll get him back, I promise." Enjolras whispered, and kissed Grantaire on the forehead, gently.  
"Thanks, Enj." Grantaire whispered, going back to his despondent humming.  
At some point, Grantaire fell asleep, in spite of his nerves. It was Enjolras who woke him up early, insisted that he shower and shave. He even made him breakfast, although the toast was burnt and the eggs were a tad bit on the runny side. If this was love, Grantaire didn't know what was.  
They walked together, Grantaire in his tye-dye suit, Enjolras in a nice black suit and red tie, to the courthouse, where, much to Grantaire's surprise, there was a crowd of supporters. He made a face at a smug looking Enjolras, and They laughed.  
"What did you think the rest of the Amis were doing?" They leaned in close to whisper, before they entered the courthouse together. In comparison to outside, the halls were hushed, and Marius was looking blanch-faced, hands clasped together as he looked at Grantaire.  
"Hey, Marius." Grantaire greeted, trying to set him at ease. If anything, he seemed to freak him out more.  
"You ready?" Enjolras asked, turning to Grantaire and straightening the collar of his shirt.  
"I dont know. Maybe I'll blind the judge enough so they'll accidentally sign Pavlov over to me." Grantaire joked one last time. As they entered the courtroom, Grantaire felt Enjolras' hand slip into his, and he squeezed. Everything would be okay. 

In the end, Grantaire kept Pavlov. When he heard the news, he practically kissed Marius in his joy, although the look of sheer relief on Marius' face was enough to keep Grantaire from traumatizing him. In a bubble of sheer joy, he made his way out of the courtroom, and outside. The crowd raised their voice in greeting, and Enjolras shouted something, he didn't know. But the crowd practically rioted in their glee. He didn't care. They could have cursed his name. But he was getting Pavlov back, and that was all that mattered.  
Grantaire, impatient, pulled Enjolras away from the crowd, ignored the reporters, and headed straight for the pound. Halfway through Enjolras had to pull out his phone to google maps the location, but nonetheless they found it. The inside of the pound had that animal worn look to it, where a receptionist took forever to look at the court files that Enjolras thankfully thought to grab from Marius on their way out.  
The waiting was insufferable. Grantaire decided to stare into Enjolras' eyes instead.  
"What?" Enjolras asked, frowning a little.  
"I love you." Grantaire said breathlessly, before he could trap his response down.  
"Oh-I love you too." Enjolras said, blushing in surprise.  
"Cute." Grantaire replied, smiling dorkily as he turned back at the lady, who insufferably took her time getting to her feet, and then into the pound itself.  
Before Grantaire could make anymore of a dork of himself, the lady brought out Pavlov, and there was an explosion of movement as his saint wrenched his way from the lady's grip and tackled Grantaire to the ground.  
Yes, all was well.


End file.
